


Agony is Your Triumph

by casual_distance



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fighting, Hate Sex, Self-Hatred, Self-cest, Suicidal Ideation, Unsafe Sex, Violent Breath Play, Violent Sex, breath play, deancest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming face-to-face with herself was never something Deanna imagined.  That <i>she</i> was <i>he</i> is even more shocking.  The heat in her gut, a mix of anger and lust, is far less so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agony is Your Triumph

They’re still only so long as it takes the rumble of the Impala to fade as Sam and Sam take off for the local library. They stare at each other until Deanna narrows her eyes. She glares at him- at _herself_ in male form- and then he’s on her. She fights back, catching his clothes and yanking, digging her fingers into his hair and pulling, a shudder working its way down her spine as he growls at her. They maintain only enough control to ensure that the hits don’t land in visible locations- can’t explain a black eye when you’re supposed to be doing research.

Dean catches her by the arm and manages to spin her around, bending her over the desk and grinding his dick into her ass. He forces her forward, pushing her arm up further until she’s gasping in pain. Deanna spreads her legs and he reaches down to cup her through her jeans, pressing the flat of his palm against her labia. She knows he can feel the heat of her when he growls again and moves his fingers against her in an effort to provide some kind of stimulation to her clit. 

She hisses at him, bucking her hips and tossing her head. She doesn’t want foreplay. Dean laughs, low and dark, and she grinds her breasts against the desk as he twists his other hand into her hair and yanks her head back.

“Take your jeans off,” he growls in her ear.

“Make me,” she snarls back. He jerks her hair, snapping her head back.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he snarls, but Deanna’s free hand is already between her body and the desk, working the buttons on her jeans and forcing them down. She gets them just past her hips before Dean’s letting go of her hair and grabbing her other wrist, yanking both arms above her head and transferring the hold to one hand. He pins her down and she struggles against him, testing his strength as he pushes her jeans to her knees. She steps on them to pull them the rest of the way down, kicking them to the side and spreading her legs for him.

He chuckles over the sound of his zipper being pulled down. He rubs his dick against her and asks “Condom?”

“Birth control,” she gasps back, arching her spine and pressing back into him.

Dean clucks his tongue and then he’s inside her. She almost curses the fact that the struggle was so good, that she’s as wet as she is; it doesn’t hurt near as much as she wants it to. Deanna starts fighting again, and he reaches up to wrap his free hand around her neck.

He squeezes and it’s so good her eyes roll up in her head. He laughs in her ear, that same low, dirty sound as before. 

“You like this, huh?” He squeezes her neck again. She can’t help the sound it drags out of her, the whine of complaint that she can breathe again. He thrusts into her, and Deanna thinks wildly that she’s thrusting into herself. She’s got her own hand wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air, making it difficult to breathe.

Dean lets go of her wrists to bring a hand to her hips. He starts to reach down between her legs, and Deanna snarls, jerks her shoulder into his chin, her elbow into his side. With his pants around his thighs, he loses his balance, staggers to the side and then trips and lands on the floor.

Deanna’s on top of him immediately, forcing herself down on his dick hard and fast. She wraps her hands around his neck and squeezes and now it’s his turn to let out that delirious groan. He grabs her hips and forces her down hard, thrusting up, and she hisses at the pain of it. She squeezes his neck tighter, and she can see him gasping, struggling for breath, and then he’s coming inside her.

She snarls, letting go of him. Deanna digs the fingers of one hand into his chest, earning a pained moan, and reaches down to get herself off. She hopes Dean stays hard long enough for her to manage this, but she’s not as close as she’d like to be. She closes her eyes, groaning in frustration. He releases her hips and she settles into a grind against him while she works her fingers against her clit in fast rough circles.

He fists a hand into her hair again, pulling sharply so that pain radiates through her skull as her head snaps back, causing Deanna to gasp, her inner muscles clenching. He slides his other hand up her neck, palm broad and flat. He rests it there, then he squeezes. She moans when he lets go, and he immediately tightens his hand again. He keeps on tightening and each struggle for breath pushes her closer and closer to orgasm.

Then- suddenly- she can’t take in a breath. She tries again and again. He twists the hand in her hair, sending fresh pain radiating out. Pain starts under her ribs as she struggles to breathe. She thinks- _He could kill me. He could hold me like this until I die. I could choke myself, kill myself just like this_ \- and then she’s coming, hard, and she would be screaming if she had any air left in her lungs.

Dean lets go before she loses consciousness and when she catches her breath, Deanna looks down at him- at herself with hatred. He looks right back, the same dark look, and it’s the most satisfying thing in the world.


End file.
